


Grace

by gabriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014!verse, End!verse, Iniastiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriel/pseuds/gabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes with a fire burning in his chest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace

He wakes with a fire burning in his chest, his voice caught in his throat, thrashing on the small cot in Castiel’s cabin. There’s arms around him in an instant, the fire in his chest extinguished, and he presses closer to the body beside him, buries his head under Castiel’s chin. Castiel whispers softly, holds him close, and runs a hand through his hair, trying to comfort him. He can still feel the small remnants of Castiel’s grace, hear the soft hum of it in his being, but it’s dull; it’s dying away.

This is not one of Inias’ first nightmares. He’s had plenty of them since he fell to join Castiel, and they only get worse when he feels the presence of Lucifer close to the camp, or feels the presence of his demons. His hands clutch at the front of Castiel’s shirt, and he whimpers softly, unsure of how to exactly handle the emotions that he feels. But Castiel once told him that he would show him the ropes of being a fallen angel, show him how to handle his emotions, and other things.

“It’s okay, Inias.” Castiel whispers, and there’s the phantom brush of feathers on the back of his neck, a soft weight on his body. Castiel is pushing his grace out toward him, sheltering him in his wings that he no longer has; he can feel them, but he knows they’re not there. He doesn’t feel the warmth that he used to when Castiel would hide him in his wings when they were in heaven, he doesn’t feel the comforting warmth of them. Instead, it’s cold, too cold.

Inias pushes his grace out as well, and he tentatively unfolds his wings, the large, gray masses seeming to appear out of thin air. Castiel gasps softly, pulls Inias closer to his chest, and Inias drops his wing over them, curls it around their bodies. They’re not what they used to be, not as full as they once were. As time continues, his feathers fall out, and he gathers them, strings them onto a piece of twine that he found around the camp, and wears them around his neck. Soon, though, he won’t be able to wear it anymore, because he’ll lose all of his feathers. But for now, he still has enough to shelter them and keep them warm. Castiel presses a hand into his feathers, holds them in his palm, and Inias sighs.

“They’re still so beautiful.”

Inias shakes his head and makes a soft, choked off sound. “No, Castiel. They’re falling apart.”

“Yes, Inias.” He presses his lips to the top of Inias’ head. “Treasure them until they’re gone. Please.”

Inias nods, and Castiel tightens his hold around him.

“I promise.”


End file.
